


Aalar

by ChopsHitch



Series: House of Memories [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Jealous Paz Vizsla, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Young Din Djarin, Young Paz Vizsla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopsHitch/pseuds/ChopsHitch
Summary: They were no longer children; they were men now.Din swears the Creed and Paz just can't contain his pride.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Series: House of Memories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059317
Comments: 7
Kudos: 110





	Aalar

When Din was 16, he swore the Creed. Paz watched him proudly, would have even cheered if it had been acceptable and wished to the Maker that Din would allow himself this one moment of happiness. He wished that Din would be smiling underneath his helmet, feeling proud of himself for this achievement. He wished that Din would be smiling like he did when they were together, but with a reluctant sigh, he knew that it was unlikely. Din's walls went up around people. 

Nurink stood behind him with his hand resting on his shoulder, Paz could see him give him a gentle squeeze and whisper something in his ear. He watched as the Armourer led them away, further into her _lair_ , as Din had called it when they were children. 

They were no longer children; now they were men. 

He left and walked around aimlessly, thinking about Din and all that he had been through, what they had been through together. He had felt drawn to him since the moment that they had met, and he had been fascinated from the second he had laid eyes on him; his feral, wild draagax. Din had become the perfect warrior as he grew, as the Mandalorians turned his rage and ferocity into a powerful weapon and tried to help him fight the war in his head. 

He had vowed once, when they were breathless, sweaty and wrapped around each other, that he would always be there to help fight Din’s battle with him. Din had reached up, under his helm and grazed the scar that decorated his cheek, silently accepting his vow; wordlessly apologising for ever having marked his face. Paz had grabbed his wrist and held it in place, “I will forever wear that scar with pride, Din’ika.” He had promised solemnly. Din had growled and rolled his eyes, cursing his kindness. 

And while to the outside Din was all sharp edges and harsh words, if he ever spoke at all, Paz knew _better_. Din might have been broken once, but all those pieces, however sharp, had been reforged like their beskar, into something new and deadly and when Paz remembered him that way, he found that he didn’t mind when he occasionally got cut with words. 

When they were young, Paz had thought of them as brothers. They had been inseparable, much to his persistence and Din’s annoyance. But they weren’t brothers, Din had hissed at him when he was 10, his precious knife levelled at his throat, vehemently against the idea. Offended by it. Paz remained him his burc’ya instead, remembering that Din had not accepted his buir as his clan, so why would he be any different? Paz had let it go, especially when Din lowered the knife with a sigh and a whispered apology. Paz had grinned at him and shrugged off the entire conversation. They may not have been brothers, but they were bonded; that was all that mattered to him. 

He managed to ignore the jealous feeling that grew in his stomach every time Din got dragged away by his classmates when their lessons were done for the day. He had told himself that it was normal and reminded himself that this was good progress for his burc’ya, especially after he’d broken someone’s collar bones a few weeks prior. He tried to ignore the surging anger when they sparred on days when Din hadn’t been able to meet up with him when his lessons were over and told himself he was only being _harsher_ on Din in these sessions to prepare him and there was no other reason, _none at all_.

It never dawned on him that he had _feelings_ for Din that extended far beyond friendship. 

“Credit for your thoughts.” Din said, materialising behind him. Paz jumped, forgetting that while he had been trained in heavy infantry, Din had been trained in stealth. Somehow he had walked himself to an empty training room, they were alone.

“Was just thinking about you.” He replied honestly, turning to look at Din in his new beskar armour. He took in the sight greedily. The polished and pure beskar gleaming off his body, making him look ethereal, making him look deadly. He wanted to worship him and felt himself getting hard at the thought. 

Din said nothing, just stepped closer to him, invading his personal space, overwhelming his senses. Paz could feel the electricity running between them, as it always had and always would. He reached out and placed one of his hands around Din’s hip, pressing their foreheads together. 

Din rested his hands on Paz’s chest and pushed him lightly. “Stop being soft.” He ordered quietly as his hands slipped down from Paz’s chest and hovered on the waistband of his pants. Paz groaned as he felt gloved fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his stomach. 

“You’ve been driving me mad all day,” Din continued in a low growl, fingers occasionally dipping down lower, just enough to brush against the base of Paz’s cock. “You and your _stupid_ pride. I could feel it.” 

Paz grabbed both of Din’s hips and pulled him closer to his own body; Din’s hands retreated out his pants and he growled at him again. “I can’t help it, Din’ika,” He moaned breathlessly, using one of his hands to undo Din’s zipper and rub him through his underwear. Din tried to stifle a moan, but his body shivered. 

“I can’t help it when you’re stood there looking like you should be the _Mand’alor_ , in that beskar; Maker, the things you could make me do,” he continued as he took Din’s cock and stroked it, rubbing his thumb over the slit. Din thrust into his hand, his hands coming up to rest on Paz’s shoulders. 

“ _Haar’chak, Paz_!” He groaned, getting caught up in the sensation of having Paz pumping his cock slowly, thrusting into his hand to try and get him to speed up. Paz chuckled at his impatience, feeling himself get hard watching Din come undone. 

“I want to make you feel _good_ , Draagax. I want you to feel as good as I did today, watching you.” He murmured as he stroked Din’s cock, Din moaned loudly. He took his own cock out of his pants started stroking himself with his left hand. 

Once he was hard enough, he wrapped his hand around both their cocks and stroked them together. Din groaned at the feeling of their cocks touching, and Paz felt himself moan as he rubbed and rutted them together. Din occasionally thrusting to create even more friction. 

“Keep talking, _please_ Paz.” He begged as he panted into his chest, watching as their cocks rubbed together. Paz moaned next to his ear. He didn’t need to be told twice. 

“Maker, _Din_ , do you know what you do to _me_?” He grunted as he continued to stroke them together, working Din to his climax, he could feel his slowly creeping up on him. “How good you look in that beskar? You look deadly and it shouldn’t turn me on, but _it does.”_

The sound that came from Din should have been illegal Paz thought, as he watched Din thrust into his hand as he came. Paz pumped them a few more times, Din whining and whimpering from overstimulation before he came as well, spurting onto Din’s armour and watching transfixed as he temporarily marked it. He gulped and let go of their cocks, tightening his grip on Din’s hip as his knees gave way slightly. When he was certain that Din was steady, he pulled out a cloth and started to clean them both up. Din was always quiet after they had finished, trying to catch his breath and ground himself, something he had told Paz once, as they had laid in a cot together, in an empty barracks. 

Silently, when Paz had finished cleaning them up as best he could and tucked himself away, Din carefully zipped himself back up and rested his head on Paz’s chest. Paz’s hand rested on his neck, feeling his pulse beat steadily beneath his palm. 

“I’d be lost without you.” He confessed to Paz’s chest. Paz said nothing, just teased the hair on the back of Din’s neck. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispered as started to untangle himself from Paz. Paz dropped his hand from Din’s neck to his wrist, trying to keep him there and made a noise to protest. 

Din shook his head. “Don’t, Paz. It’s true.” 

Paz didn’t know what to say, and smartly chose to say nothing. Din pulled away from he and remained silent for a few moments more before he cleared his throat. 

“I was supposed to invite you for dinner,” He said quietly, prying Paz’s grip off his wrist but lacing their fingers together all the same. “Buir told me to find you, said this was as much your celebration as ours. He’s right, of course.” 

Paz smiled and squeezed the hand laced with his. Reminded instantly of the occasion of the day, of Din becoming a man and a brother in arms with his fellow Mandalorians. “Lead the way, _cyare_.” 

Din kept a hold of his hand as he led them back to his quarters, and Paz felt his heart surge once again with pride. Din had truly come so far over the years and somewhere along the way, Paz had realised he had fallen in love with him. He smiled as he felt Din squeeze his hand before letting go and they walked into Din’s home, ready to have dinner and celebrate together.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, once again thank you for reading! I tried to be less angsty in this fic and just let Paz and Din be happy with each other.


End file.
